


Meeting in the middle

by bonamb



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-21
Updated: 2017-06-21
Packaged: 2018-11-16 23:09:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11262954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bonamb/pseuds/bonamb
Summary: McCree talks too much, Hanzo talks too little. They've gotta meet in the middle somewhere, 'cause McCrees gonna talk anyway.Established relationship, with some talkin', thinkin' and fluff.





	Meeting in the middle

Jesse McCree stared at the ceiling. He was comfortable. 

He was also thinking. 

"Hey... Hanzo?" 

The archer, who had his head resting on McCree's stomach with his eyes closed, gave a quiet hum of acknowledgement.  

"D'you ever, y'know, think?" 

Hanzo turned his head to face him, eyebrows raised in a deafening silence. 

The cowboy tapped him lightly on the forehead with his metal hand. "Aw don’t go givin' me that." He quickly withdrew the offending appendage as Hanzo's eyes focused, catlike on it. "Y'know what I mean! About things! Things that we probablys shouldn’t be thinkin' right now." 

Hanzo's head returned to face the ceiling. "I think a lot of things I probably shouldn’t be thinking Jessie. You may need to be more specific." 

"Hah, naw, none like that." That eyebrow went back up. "I meant the future. After Overwatch. The world, if there's even one left to go back to." 

The archer was silent.  

"I mean, you bein' an ex Shimada and all, I mean – aw hell. You know. And me bein' a goddang rootin' tootin' gun slingin' outlaw. Just where exactly do we fit into it all? Genji gets to follow that omnic back to their temple in Nepal, or what's left of it. Mercy can go into any dang medical field she pleases, 'n' Tracer's got her gal, but then there are the other guys. Winston, 76 an' all. The ones who don’t belong in this new world no more. What're we going to do?" 

Hanzo's eyes remained focused on the ceiling, firmly away from McCree. "I think that perhaps you had better ask a sapient gorilla how it feels to not fit in, instead of me." 

The cowboy sighed. "Darlin', come on. That's not what I'm askin'. I'm askin' what're _we_ gonna do when this is over? Us. You and I. Me and you. The dynamic duo. The gayest goddang couple in this dang outpost. How are either of us gonna fit in anywhere, 'specially together? We stick out like a coupla peas in a pod, even here." 

"I think all of our teammates fairly unique in their own way McCree. You are exaggerating."  

McCree freed his right hand from where it had been softly combing the archer's hair. "So, what? You don’t wanna to stay together after this is over? 'Cause I ain't hearin' anything different." 

 "McCree, no -" The archer growled and sat up. "I do not know what we will do. I did not know what I would do when I reached these walls. I did not know what I would find, I did not know what welcome I would receive and I do not know what I will do afterward." He faced the cowboy directly "I did not realise that I would be welcomed so wholly, as my life before then had been simple mercenary work, much the same as you, whiling my days away on whimsies and wishes. I did not realise that I would find you, a large, _stupid_ American, so willing to accept my faults and, and all that I had done. I didn't – I don’t know McCree. I just don't know." 

"Aw c'mere you." The cowboy leaned forward to envelop the despondent archer in a hug. Planting a whiskery kiss on his forehead he held him tight for a second before letting go, shuffling sideways so his back was against the wall. Patting the spot on the bed beside him he raised an eyebrow at Hanzo, who sighed and shuffled up next to him on the single bunk, crossed legs a juxtaposition to McCree's, sprawl. Wrapping his arm around Hanzo's shoulders, McCree leaned his cheek against the top of his head. When they were both comfortable, he hummed and asked: "So what do you _want_ to do? 'Cause I ain't got no clue. There's nothin' left for me anywhere else." 

"I-" Hanzo sighed and leaned into his cowboy. "I want to find a home." He continued as McCree murmured acknowledgement. "I want to find someplace where I can hang up my bow and not worry about being attacked at every other moment." He paused "I do not wish to stagnate though. My bow, and my dragons define who I am. I simply wish to live without this constant paranoia."   

McCree shrugged. "The sad life of a mercenary it is. Ya enjoyed your time here though?" 

Hanzo snorted explosively. "With the exception of a few occasions, yes. Although I could do without Jameson blowing up his lab every other day. It does little for my rest." 

The cowboy remained expectantly silent. 

"But... even with you, I do not feel as if I am home. My home is no longer with Genji. My home is no longer being surrounded by people, superiors and subordinates. I do not know where my home is, but it is not here." 

"Hm." McCree shifted. "Well, ah know a few good fellas that mah Ma knew. How do you feel about the good ol' Texas outback?" 

The archer turned his head to look at him and raised his eyebrows. 

"Naw? Get to spend all day in the saddle? Can shoot your bow at whatever strikes your fancy?" 

Hanzo chuckled. "There is such a thing as too isolated McCree."   

"Hah, yeah, ye might be right on that'un. We've got plenty more adventurin' time between us though, perhaps we could offer our hand someplace where we are needed after this whole Talon shebang?" 

Hanzo's forehead creased and McCree quickly backpedalled. "Naw, not as mercenaries no more, I meant as a helping hand, or defenders of the peace. Somewhere we could make a difference with our skillsets. Hell, I betcha you'd even go well into government, with your silver tongue." 

His partner slowly nodded. "That could well be. Angela did mention that she was returning to assist in Egypt after this crisis was done - ah - we may be able to join her? She said she would welcome the younger Amari's assistance to defend her while she worked, perhaps we could do something similar for a while... but..." 

McCree huffed. "Yeah, more of the same. To be honest with ya, I've gotten' almost as tired of mercenary work as you have. Gettin' too old nowdays."  

They sat in silence for a few seconds before McCree's eyes lit up, and a lopsided smile grew on his face.  

"Heyo, here's an idea, talkin' of Egypt, howbouts Africa? The rainforests? Hell, southern 'merica has them too. We could go explorin', and not only that, we could visit civilization too. Have y'all ever been to Shanghai? I sure as hell ain't!" He nudged Hanzo, who chuckled deep in his chest and nudged him back. "C'mon, I ain't no old duffer yet, with what we get outta this whole business, plus the funds I've got hoarded... ah, somewhat legally from mah gang days, we should be good to go! We don’t need to settle down any time soon, or ever! As whatshisname, uh, y'know said: 'Home is where you make it.' We could make it anywhere Hanzo! Anywhere at all." His thumb and finger of both hands came together in front of him to make a square, through which he gazed at an imaginary portrait. Turning to face his partner, he asked: "So, what'deye think o' that? 

Hanzo warily waited for his impassioned cowboy to stop gesturing before replying. "What I think... Well. I believe that nobody said 'home is where you make it', not" he grinned slyly "that it makes it any less true. Yes McCree, I think that sounds absolutely perfect." 

"Hah!" The cowboy collapsed back onto the bed, grabbing Hanzo in a rough hug, in which he hesitated only slightly before returning it in kind. The bed creaked violently, to which they both froze, only to sit up at a chuckle from McCree.  

"Yknow, I just don’t think these beds are made for us." 

Hanzo poked him in the chest. "Yes, I know. Mine is still broken, fool." 

"Aw comeon, it was worth it." 

Hanzo narrowed his eyes, then smirked. "Maybe, but I believe that I may need to repay you in kind." 

"Hah! I'll drink to that!" 

 

 

 

In the corridor outside Angela paused at the noise and shook her head, a half smile on her face. Thumbing the pad, the door slid closed, prompting a startled yell from inside.  

She chuckled as she walked away. "When will you remember to close the door, McCree?"

**Author's Note:**

> It is my firm belief that both Hanzo and McCree are on opposite ends of the "bad at talking about emotions scale". McCree because he says too much, and Hanzo too little. 
> 
> I felt like I needed to write a little useless gay fluff. You can never have too much, right?
> 
> Feed me criticism. I grow stronger with every comment hahAHAHAH


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